


Of the Living and the Dead

by rtz684



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: But its basically just Nagare and Iwa, Character Study, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Other Characters Are Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rtz684/pseuds/rtz684
Summary: Iwafune thinks of himself as Nagare's foster father. But their relationship goes a lot further than that. They owe each other their lives. To Iwa, it might be something a lot deeper than just his "life."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have words to express the bond there is between them and so, I wrote this in an attempt to transmit others just how meaningful and important their relationship is. 
> 
> If I manage to, with my writing, be able to let you have even a tiny grasp at all the feelings these characters wake up in me, I'll have succeeded. The words kept flowing out and I didn't stop until this fic was finished. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and I did well enough!

It started with a young man, hugging the corpse of a child against his chest, in a place in ruins.

  
Despair.

  
Regret.

  
Guilt.

  
Pain.

  
Tears.

  
Impotence.

  
Death.

* * *

  
Ootori Seigo died then. But Hisui Nagare was alive. As he stated so himself, a smile across his features too grounding to be one of a child, too open to be the one of an adult; to the man standing before him it was clear as day. Suddenly his eyes that had become dull, were dazzled by Nagare’s expression.

  
Iwafune offered Nagare to go with him, and Nagare accepted. And thus, the journey of the two living dead begun.

Different age, different ways, different thoughts and different pasts. The two took a step towards the future.

* * *

  
Iwafune loved Nagare. And Nagare loved Iwafune.

  
If one were to put that feeling into words, it would be a father and child kind of love.

  
But that wasn’t exactly it, either.

  
Nagare had grown eleven years of his life with a caring mother and father, and he did not want, nor need new ones.

  
Iwafune didn’t act as an authority either, never once scolded him, never once ordered him. If anything, he treated Nagare as an equal. No, he treated Nagare as someone much greater than himself.

  
After all, Iwa had saved Nagare’s life. If not for him, Nagare’s unconcealed sanctum could have ended his life right after it had been returned to him.

  
And if not for Nagare, Iwa would…

  
Iwa would… 

* * *

 Out of nowhere, Nagare’s arms would circle Iwa from behind, and tighten around him, face pressed against the older’s back.

  
Iwa, startled, would turn his head and give a questioning smile as he asked out “What is it?” trying to twist in Nagare’s hold enough so he could ruffle Nagare’s hair.

  
Nagare wouldn’t say anything then. Maybe Iwa really didn’t notice, what kind of smile crooked his lips those days. Like just smiling took a tremendous effort, a smile so tired it made the man look so much older than he really was. Specially after waking up from a nightmare. Or rather, waking up to reality.

  
Iwa didn’t look at himself much in the mirror after all, so he might really not be aware of the pain painted all across his face.

* * *

Iwa started drinking. Often. Nagare didn’t say anything about it.

  
They say love is blinding. But not even the strongest love could black out what was hidden in the cracks of Iwa’s soul. Alcohol could.

  
And so Nagare stayed quiet.

* * *

“It has been five years.”

  
It was obvious that Iwa would not bring it up, so Nagare said it instead. That 11th of July, 2004, a young Iwafune and a teenager Nagare watched a black-and-white movie on their picked up television. A can of beer was held in the older’s hand.

  
No answer came.

  
Nagare wondered what his life would be like now, if the incident hadn’t taken place and he hadn’t awoken as a King. Would he be a high-school student? Would his parents greet him as he came through the front door, dressed in uniform? Would everything have remained unchanging, his life as mundane as any other?

  
As Nagare glanced sideways at Iwa, who kept his eyes fixed on the tv, he wondered if Iwa would also be thinking about those kind of things himself.

  
Quietly, Iwafune sipped from his beer.

  
As predicted, Nagare had grown accordingly to his age, and was going through a normal adolescence, with all the hormonal and corporal changes that implicated.

Ah, well… “Normal” wouldn’t be the right word. Nagare didn’t have anyone his age to interact with, and that didn’t make things more complicated for his foster father, rather it made him feel… Lost. Grasping at straws, unsure of how to handle things.

  
However, despite being locked up with the same person every hour of the day, and going through the corresponding changes of mind and moods, Nagare never once argued with Iwa. They never fought, and even when teenagers tended to take it all out and fire against their guardians as if they were enemies in their eyes, Nagare never once blamed Iwa. Never did the words _“If only you hadn’t failed.” “If only you…”_ leave his lips.

  
For a while, the two Kings only stared at the screen before them, the low quality sound of the recorded voices filling the room.

  
It was Nagare the one to speak up again.

  
“Do you remember, when we decided not to meet the Gold King back then, because our thoughts would surely clash?” He said in his always polite, and neutral voice, digital images reflecting on his eyes.

  
“Hmm…” Iwa’s answer, however vague, was meant as a confirmation.

  
“… I want to meet him.”

  
At this, Iwa did turn his head, eyeing Nagare’s profile with a small furrow of his brows and lips parted. As if failing to place something about him. Finally, he asked. “Why?”

  
“Now that I have decided what I will do from now on, I think it is time to present myself to him as a King. I will also expose my thoughts to him then.” The pause that followed was too brief for Iwafune to interject, as Nagare continued. “If he will refuse considering my proposal, I will fight him.”

  
Silence – interrupted by the on-screen noises – took over the room. It wasn’t for long, however. There was something like worry washing over Iwa – but it had been five years, and he had changed. He didn’t try to stop Nagare. Didn’t try to advise him either, because he had nothing useful he could say.

  
“Winning against the Gold King, it’s impossible y’know. No-one can defeat him.” He said in a tired tone, eyes shifting away with a wry smile. Five years, and his fingers didn’t even clench over the metal.

  
“I am aware my chances of losing are certainly high. But even if that is how it is, this encounter will result profitable to me.” Nagare smiled in a much more determined way, brows coming down.

  
Knowing he had Iwa’s attention, Nagare inhaled before proceeding to explain out his plan.

  
“I am going to create an app. It will be called JUNGLE.”

* * *

Nagare was pure. Determined. He dressed in white. He did not resent, or deny the past. His ideas were clear in his mind. Nagare had a dream, one that he was set on pursuing, and didn’t see any wrong in his actions. To him, everyone had a part to play, every little thing mattered just as much as a big one. Nagare would never give up. Nagare was going to transform the world. Nagare had a reason, and his life, a meaning.

Iwafune was dirty. Careless. He dressed in black. He resented, and regretted, turning his back to the past and hiding in the mist of his own existence. He was empty. Iwafune didn’t have a dream, nothing to fight for, and was sceptic towards the ones who insisted in preserving his old ideals. To him nothing mattered any longer. He had given up. The world’s fate wasn’t in his hands now. Iwafune didn’t have a reason, or a meaning to his life.

But.

  
He had Nagare.

* * *

Falling asleep in the same bed, partly because in his restrains Nagare would have needed to call him if he wanted anything, partly because, alone, it may have been impossible for Iwa to sleep at all.

  
Turned on his side, Iwa caressed the sleepy King’s hair absent-mindedly. Grey eyes narrowed, and he couldn’t help but notice how peaceful Nagare looked, how, eyes closed and unmoving, he really looked like he was… Dead.

  
But Nagare’s chest was raising and falling.

  
A pang of guilt would suddenly hit him, and Iwa’s fingers would tremble through the green strands. It shouldn’t be like this. Nagare had a family and Iwa… He shouldn’t… Never had the right to…

  
But Nagare didn’t resent him. Iwa could regret all he wanted, but Nagare didn’t. To Nagare, duelling on the things he lost, hurting for things that couldn’t be changed served to no purpose. Of course, as a human, he missed them. But Nagare embraced his feelings and memories, and accepted the past as inevitable. There wasn’t something like destiny. It was our choices today, that had an impact on tomorrow. Now, Nagare who had lost everything he had, had gained an incredible amount of power, and he was going to use it as he decided best. That was all.

  
Nagare wouldn’t think of things like deserving, or having the right to. The way things had turned out, Nagare was now in Iwa’s care, something they had both agreed on. And that was okay. When he smiled openly at his guardian, not a shadow of hard feelings in his eyes, he meant it.

  
Breathing out a shaky sigh, Iwa wrapped an arm around Nagare and closed his eyes.

  
When he would wake up the next day, all those people he had devoted his life to, all the ones who had made his world would still be gone.

  
But Nagare would be there, greeting him in the morning.

* * *

There were things in Iwa’s mind.

_“I love you”_

  
_“You mean so much to me”_

  
_“I don’t deserve you.”_

  
_“You will do greater things than anything I could ever have”_

  
_“You saved me, Nagare.”_

  
_“Nagare. I’m sorry.”_

  
And there were things in Nagare’s mind _._

  
_“I care for you”_

  
_“You saved my life”_

  
_“You shouldn’t have to be hurting like this, to bear with all that pain and regret.”_

  
_“Iwa-san. It’s not your fault.”_

  
_“I do not blame you for anything that happened.”_

  
And, even when they were never spoken out loud, the words were exchanged everyday, all the time. In every plate of home-made curry. In the long time spent carefully putting on Nagare’s dress. In every adoring look. Every little smile. Even in every calm, gentle ‘Iwa-san.’ ‘It’s delicious.’

  
And when their eyes met. They just knew.

* * *

The incident took away many things from Iwa, even himself, or the man he used to be up until then. And even though most of that would be gone forever, there was something that Nagare managed to bring back to him.

  
Nagare slept a lot in the night, and even in the day he would doze off often, brief unplanned naps. Due to being unable to exercise out of being bounded in his restrictive clothing, his body was weak and had very little energy.

  
While a younger Iwafune cooked in the kitchen, apron on and the sound of the radio, Nagare fell asleep. Kotosaka - who had been together with them for a few years now – chose the sleepy King’s head as his resting spot.

  
Nagare’s hair might not have been comfy enough for his liking, because Kotosaka took it into his – claws? – to arrange it himself, shifting around and flapping here and there. Using his beak the bird pulled softly, and Nagare’s eyes slowly blinked open.

  
In that same moment, Iwa entered the room holding a huge casserole in his hands. Brows raised at the curious scene he had come back to. Nagare, unmoving, was gazing upwards with a straight face, trying to get a view of the bird on top of him. His hair was an absolute mess – it was usually unruly as it was, spikes everywhere and wild bangs, but like this it was a lot crazier, horns and curls all over the place, the worse bedhair couldn’t even compare to it. And sitting on it was Kotosaka, who flapped his wings loudly and cawed, looking pleased with himself.

  
Iwa laughed.

  
It wouldn’t be fair to say he hadn’t smiled, or laughed at all ever since the incident. But those had been affective huffs, or brief chuckles. Not like this. Head lightly tilted back, whole-hearted, healthy laughter vibrating in his throat, shoulders shaking.

  
Nagare’s eyes widened. Even Kotosaka cocked his head in that characteristic parrot way, so natural and yet so fitting.

  
As the laughter died out, a wide smile kept on Iwa’s lips, gazing at the two fondly. “I just can’t keep my eyes off ya for two minutes, can I? Jeeze…”

  
Nagare smiled too.

* * *

Nagare would always ask him what dinner would be that night, the moment he woke up right after ‘Good morning.’ Not breakfast or lunch, but diner, always diner.

  
Iwa didn’t know what that was about.

  
Nevertheless he always made up his mind on what meal he would cook that night, first thing in the morning.

* * *

They didn’t talk about the past, but they talked about the future, a lot. If they managed to reach their goal, and free the Slate’s power for it to reach out to everyone, what kind of world would be born? The concept was so difficult to wrap their head around, they could never run out of possibilities in their heads.

  
Chaos, and wildness.

  
But overall, opportunities. For everyone. Equality. Being given the chance to fight back. The chance to stand up.

  
Even if humanity would find a way to establish classes and levels, for one to rule over others and fall into a new sense of order, it would be worth it. The future was yet to be written. Nagare would change this world, now, and the one to be born from it’s ashes would be molded by the evoluted humanity.

  
Nagare would not regret. And following Nagare along the way, Iwa knew, there was no way he would regret this, either. This time, it wasn’t about protecting the people from the unfair world they lived in. It was something much greater than that. And watching excitement light up in Nagare’s eyes, Iwa found he _did_ have reason to keep living. His life had a meaning again.

  
It had had it, from the moment he saw that pale child’s face. 

* * *

JUNGLE was by all means, an unusual clan.

The “initiation” ceremony consisted in an app being downloaded. About the entirety of Japan was a clansman, and they weren’t even aware of it. Powers were obtained not by an oath of loyalty, but by reaching a certain virtual punctuation. Powers were “borrowed.” Only after becoming strong enough would one be able to meet the King.

  
The clan’s, head quarters consisted in an enormous labyrinth of tunnels, three walls and a floor put together, and picked up items from the trash. But the clan’s territory’s extension reached everywhere in the country.

  
And on top, the ones that were said to be JUNGLE’s executives. An incredibly talented genius child, who was a complete brat. A beauty-obsessed experienced swordsman, another King’s former student, a beast thirsty for the wild and the exciting. The King, forever tied up in his chair, who, while never moving from his place, was everywhere, every time, manipulating the world slowly into something entirely new. A priest-looking old man with a bit of a drinking habit, careless on the important matters and caring for insignificant things, with a smile painted always across his face, who was actually another King. And a parrot, way too intelligent and powerful to be one, who was respected as much as everyone else.

This. It was just right.

* * *

Meeting Munakata was like looking himself in a mirror, showing a reflection frozen fourteen years ago.

  
Seeing the tension in the Blue King’s shoulders, his paled skin and shaky fingers, desperately trying to draw oxygen while falling to the depths of the ocean, arm reaching out, further, further, trying to go back to the surface.

  
All hidden under a confident smile. But what his facade hid, his crumbling sword showed. And even without that, Iwa would have known. Would have seen it all still. Because he had breathed desperation, stubbornness and denial, he knew it all too well.

  
The sight of him, trying so hard to keep going, to push on, brought a rueful smile to Iwa’s lips. You look exhausted y’know? Why not just give up?

  
However, Iwafune never viewed that fight as facing his past self. As if, the way the fight would turn out would decide whether he was right, now, and Ootori’s efforts had been pointless, or whether he was wrong and it really would have been possible, back then, if only he’d been stronger, if only…

  
No. Munakata was, just as he had wanted to be, a “Hero of justice.” But to Iwa, he was only an obstacle in Nagare’s way. Iwa stopped questioning things like the good and evil, or the what ifs of what _could_ have been and wasn’t. His mind was set, and he would follow Nagare to the very end. The world didn’t need heroes to save it. In a world were everyone was just as strong, there was no need for heroes at all.

  
Munakata before him was a painful thing to watch, and the merciful in him wished the Blue King would just accept the change Nagare wanted bring. He didn’t want to go through unnecessary sacrifices. But there was no way he could change the other’s mind. Not the King of Order’s, no less. That would be so unlike Habari too.

  
Aiming at the opponent before him, Iwa pulled the trigger.

* * *

Nagare didn’t understand why Weismann would discard his own dream. Why, after so many years of research, and when Nagare had taken it into his hands to finally make that wish a reality, the Silver King would deny his collaboration and stand in his way.

  
“I was mistaken.” What was the meaning of those words? Was it because of the death of his sister, brought by the war in which the Slate had been used as a weapon? But didn’t Klaudia die due to the injustice of being involved in a conflict between people with so much more influence than herself?

  
Nagare’s friends, his family, they had died too. Iwafune’s clansmen, the people that believed in him, had also succumbed to the massacre. And yet, Nagare didn’t see that as a reason to want the Slate erased.

After all, a Damocles Down, or a bomb of massive destruction, was there really any difference? Hadn’t the lost people, running from war and hunger gone to Ootori Seigo, precisely because that power could protect them? The power of the Slate? A King couldn’t protect his clansmen from a Damocles Down. But a King wouldn’t be killed by a Damocles Down. Iwa and Nagare were the living proof of that. Why couldn’t everyone else see it too?

A world of Kings, unruled, would bring catastrophe and destruction. Undoubtedly, victims too. But there would always be victims, no matter what. Wouldn’t it be better if those victims could at least fight for themselves to the very end? Face danger and fight back, in order to survive, instead of just waiting to be protected by someone else?

Super heroes couldn’t always save everyone. That would be just a naive thought. Was people then meant to wait and plead, just in order to get lucky and be saved on time? Just for other people to inevitably die instead?

  
Why can you not see it, Yashiro? Well, it’s fine. You should just watch me then, I will continue with or without your help. I will not stop before anyone. Keep your eyes open, Silver King. Do not diverge your attention. Because I will show you a new world. I will fulfil the dream you now fear.

* * *

Defeating Munakata didn’t bust up Iwa’s confidence, nor bring him any satisfaction. Being defeated was surprising, but it didn’t make Iwa regret his choice, not did it prove that he was wrong.

  
It didn’t matter whether Munakata had won because he was stronger than him, or if it was having the blue clansmen by his side that gave him the strength he needed. Because it didn’t change the fact Munakata would never be able to save everybody. To be there always for whoever who needed him. It didn’t change the fact everyone deserved their own chance.

Even if Munakata had won in the end, Iwafune didn’t regret, nor did he loathe himself for losing. He had put his all in this fight. No allowance, no stalling, no hesitation this time around. Even so, it hadn’t been enough. It just couldn’t be helped.

  
Iwafune had matured.

  
-

  
For Nagare, it was the same. Carrying on his dream until the very end, advancing through Sukuna’s strength, Yukari’s ability, Iwa’s devotion and his own power.

  
This last fourteen years, he wouldn’t have changed a single thing of them.

  
Just the same way as when he had lost to the Gold King, Nagare looked up and smiled. This was the way things turned out. Nagare had fought his best. Enjoyed the second chance of living he had been granted to the fullest. This was good bye.

* * *

“How unfortunate. And yet. I feel satisfied.”

 

“It was fun wasn’t it? Nagare.”

* * *

It ended with an old man, hugging the corpse of his grown-up son against his chest, in a place in ruins.

 

Calmness.

  
Satisfaction.

  
Peace.

  
Completion.

  
A smile.

  
Rest.

  
_Death_.


End file.
